


The 'Avignon' Affair

by Avirra



Series: The Waverly Tales [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Historical References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5792575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avirra/pseuds/Avirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1912 - Napoleon and Illya are yet to be born.  In London, twenty year old Alexander Waverly thinks he's beginning his job as a clerk for the Foreign Office, but a special assignment is about to change the course of his life & his world forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Beginning

As he entered the doors of the Foreign Office in Whitehall for the first time as a newly employed clerk, Alexander Waverly took a long look around at the bustle and hum of activity all around him. A faint smile formed. For a young man trying to get his start in the civil service, this was about as ideal of a beginning post as he could have hoped for. Kismet - just like the name of that new play he'd been treated to a showing of at the Garrick Theatre for his nineteenth birthday last year.

Kismet was a more appropriate word for that day in 1912 than Waverly knew at the time. Even as he entered the building, three highly placed men were trying to decide the fate of the twelve year old - a politically inconvenient twelve year old. One of the trio paced and glanced out of an office window and his eyes just happened to land on the newly arrived Waverly. Possibly not the perfect solution, but likely as perfect as a reasonable man could hope for.

Just as Waverly's superior walked over to take charge of his newest man, they were intercepted.

"Apologies from the front office, Mister Wescott. They've put in a request for Mister Waverly for an assignment."

The man offered his hand which Waverly took briefly.

"Andrew Harrison. Come along please. Front office hates to be kept waiting."

Wescott was clearly at a loss for words, so Waverly knew this was far outside of normal protocol, but he followed along behind the man. Up the stairs and into offices that Waverly hadn't imagined that he might have been able to get a look inside for another ten years or so. Three men were seated behind a thick oak table. None of them rose or even spoke. They just quietly studied the young clerk for several long moments.

Whatever it was - Waverly's appearance, the steady way that he stood waiting or something else entirely - the men obviously approved and the one in the center simply spoke two words.

"He'll do."

With no further explanation, Mister Harrison escorted him back out of the office and then down into the bowels of the building. As they walked, he began to be briefed on what was expected.

"You speak French passably, I trust?"

"Yes, sir. However, I have been told my accent speaks more of the countryside than the urban settings."

"That may be just as well. You are going to be entrusted with a special package that you are to deliver to the Abbaye de Notre-Dame de L'Annonciation near Avignon."

"Pardon me, sir, but that is a cloistered order, is it not?"

A side glance seemed to indicate that Harrison was impressed that Waverly knew that without being told, but didn't comment otherwise.

"Yes, but the nuns still communicate with the outside world through a grill. They remain in those closed doors until death. Very devote order."

"And the nature of this delivery, sir."

Harrison just gestured for Waverly to keep following. The hallway they turned down was devoid of others wandering through it and they came to a stop at a door that was featureless except for the lock which Harrison pulled out the key for. As the door swung open, two things immediately caught his attention. First, the room behind the door was a cell - a well-appointed cell that looked more like a better quality hotel room, but a cell nonetheless.

Second, the cell was occupied by the reed-thin figure of a girl dressed in pastel pink tones. What skin was visible was porcelain as if rarely out in even the limited London sunshine. Very pale blonde hair was done in thick sausage curls that hung along the back and sides of her heart-shaped face. The bangs were a bit overlong and hid her eyes for a moment until she swept the hair to the side and revealed the frostiest blue eyes he could ever remember seeing - all parts of the young lady that he guessed was likely to be around the age of twelve.

Those blue eyes were focused on Waverly now and he felt as if he were under even more intense scrutiny than the men in the offices above had fixed him with. He'd almost forgotten that Harrison was still there with them until the man spoke again.

"This is the package that you will be taking to Avignon."


	2. Brother and Sister

As Harrison's words sank in, Waverly noted that, while the young lady looked at him in a studying fashion, she viewed Harrison with undisguised distain. Verbally, she had not made a single sound and he began to wonder if she was, perhaps, mute.

"Paperwork is being prepared as we speak. Your age is right, so you will be traveling as brother and sister. For the duration of your assignment, you will be answering to the name Alexander Kildare."

A smile quirked on the face of the young lady as he found her studying him again. It was almost as if he could read the thought behind that smile. He could hardly imagine a less likely looking pair of siblings himself. He was of the English type that his mother referred to as 'horsey', though in a fond fashion. Solid features. The young lady was more swan than horse.

"Mister Waverly, we'll need you to go pack a bag for yourself and be back within two hours. Of course, make sure not to pack anything with your name on it. We will have Millie ready to travel and you will be starting off by train this evening. If anyone needs to be aware of your absence, you may inform them that you will be gone for a week, but give no details. Not even the fact that you are leaving the country. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir. Quite clear."

The young lady very deliberately turned her back on Harrison and paid no further attention to either of them as they departed and Harrison relocked the room. It seemed an extreme precaution, but Waverly didn't allow that thought to come through in either his words or his actions as he followed Harrison back up the stairs and then headed out to pack as ordered.

He neatly packed his case, then hesitated before opening another case. There were some pieces of jewelry in there – cuff links, rings and such. But one item was distinctly feminine. A delicate dragonfly curved to appear in flight - in silver with stones of such a pale blue that they were nearly clear. It was one of the mementos he had remaining from his mother and he recalled that the last time he had seen her wear it was on a trip to France. He slid it back into its silken protective pouch and then slipped it into his case along with his cufflinks.

He hadn't even used one of his two hours, so Waverly sat down to think. This assignment was peculiar in many ways. Obviously a delicate matter, so why would they entrust it to an unproven clerk? There was far more here than he had been told and the thought crossed his mind that they might be thinking of him as dispensable. Not a pleasant thought, but if he was dispensable, what of the young lady? Perhaps once they were away from the eyes and ears at the Foreign Office, she would open up and fill in some of the gaps of this story. There was a high degree of intelligence behind those icy blue eyes – of that much, he was certain. He was also fairly certain that the cloistered convent was not a choice that she had made for herself.

Getting back to his feet, Alexander opened another drawer and removed a small box his father had gifted to him. His father had done his share of time on the continent with the civil service and believed in the value of having a small blade or two. 'Handy for everything from cutting the string on a box to discouraging a thief.'

He didn't put them in his case though. Those he hid on his person before giving one last look around before leaving to inform his landlady that family business was calling him away suddenly and that he would be gone about a week. That done, he headed back to Whitehall.

As promised, Millie was ready to travel – or at least, she was dressed for travel and had her own case with her. Her blue eyes were no longer either icy or sharp though. If anything, they reminded him more of drooped violets. When Harrison came over to pass him their paperwork, he also handed Waverly a bottle that explained a great deal.

"Laudanum. Make use of it with her as needed. It should make traveling much easier for you. The packet contains your tickets and some cash for meals and other light needs. Use it sparingly. Good luck. The station is near enough that you should arrive in plenty of time if you walk there."

"Thank you, sir."

Taking the packet and tucking it away in his coat, Waverly then shook hands with Harrison before taking hold of Millie's arm to guide her along. He hid his disgust that she had been drugged until the two of them were far enough away that they wouldn't be overheard.

"Whether you can understand me or not, I do want to apologize for the treatment you've been put through, Millie."

"I am not an imbecile, Alex. I can understand you quite well, thank you."

His head swiveled at that and he found himself staring at the slightly bemused face. The eyes were brighter again. He decided not to question that at first and instead broached a safer topic.

"If we are to be spending a good bit of time together, 'sister dear', I am afraid I must inform you that I never have cared for being called Alex."

"How convenient. I despise the name Millie, so I believe we can come to an understanding. Shall we begin with proper introductions? Well, as proper as we can manage without benefit of a mutual acquaintance."

"Certainly. Alexander Reginald Waverly - at your service."

"A pleasure. And I am Millicent Victoria Kildare."

"Delighted to meet you. I apologize in advance for not calling you Miss Kildare, but I daresay that might seem a bit odd between a brother and sister. So, Millicent, then?"

"Millicent is perfect, Alexander. Thank you."

"Might I inquire - uhm ?"

"Oh. The laudanum? They tricked me with that at my mother's funeral. I should hope I have enough sense not to fall for the same trick twice."

"I am sorry to hear of you loss, Millicent. Was it - recent?"

"Just last week. The funeral was yesterday. Rather inconsiderate of them not to allow at least a minimal period of mourning. I wasn't even able to accompany the coffin to the graveside."

"Does seem thoughtlessly cruel. Just a minute."

Waverly ran over recent newspapers in his mind. He had long ago made it his habit to read the daily paper front to back. Then he took another longer look at the figure beside him.

"Good heavens. Are you Aglaya's daughter?"

The smile was a touch bittersweet, but she seemed pleased that he knew the name.

"That was mother's stage name, yes. And hence, the crux of the 'problem' I present."

"Because your mother was a Russian dancer?"

"No. Because that particular Russian dancer had a prince for an admirer. One with a reputation for a taste in beautiful women."

"I see. And he was your father?"

"I neither know nor care to know. Even if he were, I could hardly lay claim to anything, could I? Those Whitehall imbeciles won't believe that however. So? France it is."


	3. Pacts

They boarded the train with plenty of time to spare and, for a few moments at least, they were the only ones in their section. With a glance around first to verify to her own satisfaction that no-one was near, Millicent leaned in just a bit closer to Waverly, speaking softly.

"Do feel free to consider me paranoid, Alexander, but please check our ticket packet, would you?"

Tugging the packet back out from his coat pocket, he opened in and looked. Funds - some in pounds, but most in francs. Identification for them both - his in the assumed name. Tickets for passage across the channel, tickets for a train to the Avignon region. Nothing else. Frowning, he searched through the packet again.

"They only gave you one-way passage, didn't they?"

He didn't answer her question. Instead, he gave her a long look.

"How old are you, Millicent?"

She gave him a look that could almost be called teasing.

"My own brother and you can't keep track of dates? For shame. And myself with the world's easiest birth date to keep track of. New Years Day, 1900."

"So you are twelve then?"

"For pity's sake, Alexander, don't say it like you would if I had the pox. I've traveled on the continent with my mother, have had tutors since I was three and I can speak in three languages quite well. I shan't be twelve forever, you know."

He held up a hand in mock surrender.

"I didn't mean it in that way. I meant it as a compliment. I haven't had a great deal of experience with twelve-year olds since I was one myself. And I don't recall my conversational skills and knowledge base as being on par with yours."

She sat back, seeming to consider that with a frown.

"I couldn't tell you how another twelve year old might act. I've never associated with other children. Mother raised me to be able to take care of myself. Perhaps she had an inkling of what would happen after her protector died."

"The one-way passage. You knew or guessed?"

"Educated guess, Alexander. My mother was not without her other admirers and she did not keep my existence a secret. If I were to disappear on British soil, there might be too many questions that might lead to too many embarrassing answers. However should I disappear in route to Avignon?"

"I see."

And, oddly enough, Waverly found that he actually did see. It was as if a section of his brain that had never been stimulated before had awoke to view the world through a whole new set of filters. He found the iced blue eyes studying him again.

"And if I were to disappear with you, even less chances of an embarrassing answer in the future."

"You don't seem to be cut from the same cloth as those others, Alexander. If you don't mind my saying, you seem to have both backbone and imagination. Which leads me to the question if you are going to cast your lot with them - or me? I may still end up a nameless corpse, but I plan to make a fight of it."

Waverly found himself smiling slightly at the sheer spunk of the girl.

"I daresay you will. And for now, I cast my lot with both."

That was plainly an answer she hadn't expected. Millicent clasped her hands at her chest and rested her chin on them as she turned that thought over in her mind in silence.

"I do hate to admit defeat, Alexander, but I must. What do you have in mind?"

"We continue onward to Avignon as expected. Instead of trying to evade those that may be after you, we meet them head-on. But do remember that the advantage will be ours, Millicent."

"You mean because we will be expecting them?"

"More than that. They will be expecting to encounter an unaware young clerk escorting a drugged twelve-year old."

"I see. You mean that the odds are that they won't be expecting any resistance at all."

"Precisely. Between now and then, we need to pool our resources. Pact?"

Waverly offered her his hand and was pleased that she took it immediately. Then the weight of the responsibility settled onto his shoulders and he took a deep breath - only to find the blue eyes had warmed as if she seen what just happened. Perhaps she had - she was as fey a being as he had ever encountered. Far too old for her years. And, for the first time, what seemed to be a genuine smile formed on her face.

"I knew you were not like them, Alexander."

In the not so recent past, he might have viewed those words as an insult. Now he felt as if he had just received a benediction.


	4. Crossing the Channel

Waverly cast a look down at his pocket watch after he tugged it free. It seemed like so much time had passed since he had walked through the doors of the Foreign Office, but in fact, it was just past ten in the morning. Their ship was scheduled to set sail at noon.

Waverly took out the tickets again and had a look at them, frowning slightly as he noticed that the names on the tickets didn't match the names on their passports. Once they started traveling in France under their passport names, anyone trying to trace them back wouldn't find a connection back to England. Of course, whoever was looking would know that they had come across, but they wouldn't be able to establish when or how. First class tickets.

His frugal soul couldn't help but frown at that. Seeing the frown but not knowing the cause, Millicent decided to distract him a bit.

"You have me at a disadvantage now, as my mother would say. You know how old I am, but I don't know how old you are."

With a side glance, he tossed a variation her own words back at her.

"My own sister and you can't keep track? Well, I will be twenty in eleven days."

"On the twenty-first of April then? We shall have to celebrate then assuming we are able to."

The train shuddered a bit and got both of their attention.

"We appear to have arrived at Southampton, Millicent. Let's go have a look at this ship they've booked us on."

As they made their way to the docks, the assumed years seemed to fall off of Millicent as she took in the sight before them.

"Oh . . . my. It is absolutely enormous! And we're going on that?"

"If I recall what I've read about her correctly, she's the largest ship of her class currently. This will be her first cross-Atlantic voyage. And yes. First class tickets."

"A bit of an extravagance, but I won't complain. I've never been on a ship's maiden voyage before."

The excitement in her voice as her eyes ran over the length of the ship was evident in many of the other eyes around them as well. This vessel had been built to impress and impress she did.

"Nor I. We won't be on her more than a few hours, but we might as well take advantage and have a good look about. It appears boarding is already underway."

They made their way up the gangplank with still an hour to go before the ship would leave port. Leaving their bags in the space provided, Waverly offered Millicent his arm and the two of them began to explore after being informed that luncheon would be served after the ship was underway.

As they descended the grand staircase, the enormity of everything was still stunning.

"I should never in a hundred years have imagined all of this being on a ship, Alexander. We will be getting off in Cherbourg?"

"Yes. Then the ship will head to Queenstown and, after that, to New York."

"New York. That is a city I certainly would love to see myself one day. Shame I simply cannot just take this ship all the way there now."

"Perhaps you will when you're a bit older. The Titanic is a brand new ship, after all. They generally stay in service thirty years or so, so you should have ample opportunity."

He glanced down at his watch again.

"Nearly time for us to be puling away from the dock. Care to go back on deck and be a part of that?"

"Oh yes. Please."

The noise and streamers were all very exciting, but the thing that caught their attention was a near miss with another ship, ironically named the New York. That sobered Millicent's mood and, though she still appreciated their surroundings, her attention was back to what was to come. After eating, they found a quiet spot where they could speak privately.

"We won't be getting off at Cherbourg before nearly sundown, so we have a few hours. Tell me, Millicent, if you had your choice of where to go, where would it be?"

"Mother had intended for me to attend a finishing school in Switzerland. I suppose given the choice I would go there to complete my studies just because that was what she wanted. I have the rest of my life after I turn eighteen to do what I want."

"Sensible. I'm not at all certain how it could be brought about though."

"My mother, shall we say, didn't limit herself to one admirer. I believe I could find a way if I could get word to the right ears."

"Then we shall have to find a way to make that happen. I see a pair of deck chairs over there. We are likely to be quite busy once we're in France, so getting a bit of rest now might be the best idea."

He waited until Millicent settled into the chair, then tucked a lap rug around her before taking the chair next to her. Her eyes were looking off into the distance over the water. She didn't speak again until he had adjusted his own lap rug.

"And your orders to take me to Avignon, Alexander?"

"Odd thing about those orders. They said I was to take you there. They never said a thing about leaving you there."

Leaning back a bit, another smile formed.

"I do like the way you think, Alexander."


	5. Cherbourg

The arrival at Cherbourg was an hour later than scheduled due to the near collision with the New York. At first they were puzzled when the ship got within sight of the shore, but didn't go any closer. They soon discovered that the ship wasn't actually going to dock at Cherbourg. The piers there simply weren't adequate to accommodate a steamer the size of the Titanic. Instead, the ship dropped anchor and tender ships came out to the steamer to bring additional passengers and luggage to the vessel and to transport the cross-channel passengers back to shore.

The tender ship that Millicent and Waverly were directed to was the Nomadic, which serviced the first and second class passengers. It was past six thirty by the time that they were actually about to step on French soil.

"We have our first deviation from the schedule they gave us, Millicent. The delay in arrival here means we've already missed our train."

Waverly's words were overheard by one of the officers who was assigned to the Nomadic. Had they been third or possibly even second class passengers, nothing else might have happened, but the White Star Line staff had standing orders with first class passengers that they were to be catered to. Before they quite knew what was happening, Waverly and Millicent were escorted inside the local office for the White Star Line, asked for their train tickets and offered a very nice light meal. By the time they had eaten, they were reimbursed for the cost of the train tickets as well as given sincere apologies for any inconvenience.

The entire scene left them both a touch bemused, but Waverly decided to consider the whole thing had been to their advantage and left with Millicent to find lodgings for the night. Since nearly three hundred people had just boarded the Titanic, finding a vacancy didn't prove to be difficult. They had to pay a bit more for two bedrooms, but there was no question about the necessity of that.

Once they were in their lodgings, one of the first things Millicent did was to start brushing out the sausage curls. Waverly watched her, amused by the procedure.

"I take it that is not your hairstyle of choice?"

"Hardly. Besides, I think it would behoove us if I looked as old as I possibly can. I think if I alter the style of my hair and dress a bit, I should be able to pass for two or three years older."

"You know how to arrange hair?"

"Well, I'm certainly not an expert, but I help Mother with hers all of the time."

Waverly stiffened just a bit as she referred to her mother in the present tense. The same realization seemed to come to her a minute later and the brush paused in mid-stroke. After a moment, the brush was lowered, then laid down on the vanity table. Rising, Millicent didn't look over to him as she murmured something that he couldn't quite make out before she went into the room where her bed was and shut the door behind her.

Not knowing quite what else to do, Waverly moved over to the small balcony of the room, opening the doors to it and stepping out onto it before lighting a cigarette. He was quite lost to his thoughts and had nearly finished when the small voice spoke behind him, not quite at her normal strength, but not far from it.

"I don't see how you can stand those things. They smell so horrid and look like a child playing with chalk."

Turning to look at her, her eyes were slightly red and it was plain that she had just washed her face. As he put out his cigarette, he decided he wouldn't bring that up unless she did first. She had a right to grieve in private, after all.

"You may have a point. Perhaps I'll switch to cigars or a pipe. But that's for another day. Right now we need to decide where we go from here. Tell me, Millicent, you mentioned reaching the right ears. Might you be able to send a telegram to them?"

"I don't see why not. Actually, that sounds like a splendid idea. With the port here -"

Waverly came back inside, shutting the balcony doors.

"No. I think it would be best if we didn't send anything from Cherbourg. If we're being watched from afar, once they have determined that we didn't make the train they intended us to, our activities here will be the first thing that they will check. Millicent, do you know how to cycle?"

Her eyes grew wider and her mouth opened slightly before a thoughtful look came over her face.

"Yes, I do. I daresay I'm a bit rusty, but I'm sure it would come back to me rather quickly."

"Excellent. If they are the hounds and we two are the foxes, let us give the hounds a run for their money."


	6. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines in italics are meant to be in French

When morning came, Waverly felt oddly alive. This experience was far away from anything that he had imagined just two days ago, but he found it as bracing as cold water in the face. When Millicent emerged from her room, he noted that brushing the majority of the curl out of her hair and putting it up did have the desired effect that she had been hoping for.

"Millicent, we shall have to begin by walking and find a store that sells appropriate clothing. You certainly cannot ride a cycle in that rig."

That brought laughter to her lips that was a welcome change. From the spark in her eyes, he had to believe that this altering of circumstance was welcome to her as well.

"A rig? Well, I have heard clothing called far less flattering names. Good morning, Alexander."

"Good morning. Our first order of business should be to decide our new names."

"I beg your pardon? Don't we have to stick with the names on our passports?"

"I don't see why. You speak French and I speak French - why not simply become French?"

The laughter came bubbling out again and for a second time, he got a glimpse of the girl behind the young lady.

"You are a genius, Alexander. Would you mind if our last name was Cheval? It's a bit of a joke, but I don't believe anyone else would understand it."

"No, I suppose that will work as well as any other name, but might I ask what the joke is?"

"My last name, as you can tell, is hardly Russian nor is it the one of my supposed sire."

She stopped speaking as she saw understanding lighting up in his eyes.

"Kildare was his favorite horse."

"So I am told. I suppose it could be considered flattering. Most gentlemen give more care to how their horses are tended than to their daughters."

"Well, so long as you find it amusing, I can't imagine too many would make the leap from one to another. As far as our first names go, we can keep the same and just alter the spelling to the French variant."

"Alexandre and Millicente Cheval. I do think that flows very well, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Shall we be on our way?"

"Mais bien sur, Alexandre, mon frère."

He gave her a smile as they each took their small cases and left the small hotel without a word to anyone. Walking through past a bakery, they paused just long enough to purchase some items to make a decent breakfast and lunch from. It was quickly agreed that they would stick to speaking French from this point to avoid forgetting.

_"We will walk to Tourlaville, I think. About three and a half miles so it isn't beyond our ability to walk there, especially since you had the sense to wear a pair of sensible shoes. From there, we should be able to obtain serviceable attire and a pair of cycles."_

The weather was pleasant, so there was no need for haste to get out of the elements. Besides, Waverly pointed out that two people taking a leisurely stroll wouldn't attract nearly the attention of two people rushing along and his intention was that anyone trying to track the two of them would run into a very muddled trail very quickly.

As hoped, in Tourlaville, they were able to purchase a used pair of bicycles - Matadors from Holland. They were around five years old, but well-maintained. Used, but serviceable clothing was also obtained. Fortunately, things were reasonably priced. Their funds were limited and not replaceable at this point.

As they cycled away from the fishing town, they looked far more like others you would see around the French countryside and less like English citizens in hiding. When they pulled to the side of the road later, Waverly pulled out a small map he had purchased and pointed out about where they were currently and where they were headed.

_"Our next stop will be Caen. That's the place where we will try to get your telegram sent off, so be composing that in your head. You will need to be a brief as possible, Millicent."_

_"Yes, Alexander. I will do my best."_

She leaned a bit to take a better look at the map, then let out a breath slowly.

_"It looks to be a great deal further to Avignon than I had thought it was."_

_"Somewhere around six hundred and fifty miles, my dear. Ready to continue?"_

She just smiled and nodded, warmed a bit by his use of the small term of endearment. Perhaps he was just using it to help keep her spirits up. If so, it was working.


	7. Trials and Telegrams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines in italics are meant to be in French

It was nearly eighty miles of bicycle riding to get them to Caen. Although she didn't complain, Waverly knew Millicent had to be aching from the long hours of pedaling because he was himself. Despite their early start, it was nearing dark by the time they actually got to Caen. The first thing he located was the local telegraph office. Millicent had three different ones to send.

He nodded at her economy of words, but looked over the three names carefully.

_"Are you sure you can trust any of these men?"_

_"Not really. They could well consider all ties or friendships with me died with my mother. I daresay I've become - inconvenient in many circles."_

Waverly briefly drummed his fingers against his leg.

_"Perhaps we could find a way to separate them to give you a better idea where your best interest might be."_

_"Any idea would be welcome. I feel like I'm walking up strange stairs in the dark without a railing to guide me."_

_"Pick one. We will add a few words., say 'will remain one day for reply'. We won't go back, of course, but if there are any hornets stirred up, that should give us a clue as to whose side they're on, if any."_

_"Send one here and send the next in the next town and so forth? Alright, let's do it. It isn't as if we'll be arriving in Avignon tomorrow, after all."_

It both pleased and puzzled him - the way that she didn't ask him to change their destination or ask him to forego his orders. He waited until the first telegram had been sent and then took her arm for a walk. Once he had found a place that they could sit far from any other ears, he gave her another long look. One that lasted long enough to raise a questioning look from her.

"Alexander? Is something wrong?"

"That is what I am trying to determine, Millicent. Mind you, it isn't that I want to be fighting with you over destination, but what happens here in this country will likely chart the course for the remainder of your life. And at your age, that is a very long time."

She nodded slowly in understanding.

"Why am I willing to go where you point and why am I willing to go with you to Avignon even knowing that place could well turn into my prison?"

Millicent pulled her jacket around herself tighter as she looked over at the moon that was now peeking over the rooftops of Caen.

"I am all too aware of my limitations. Believe me, the men that assigned you to me made sure I was very aware that they had made sure I had nothing left in the world. My home, my mother's jewels and other possessions - they took it all and have left me without so much as a ha'penny to my name."

The cool blue eyes left the moon and moved down to look at Waverly's face.

"When we left together and you apologized to me, something about you felt - right. I made my choice then and there that I would trust in you. I am not about to start second-guessing my decision. Much as I might like to think that I am capable of taking care of myself, my mother taught me many things while we were traveling and one of those things is that the world is not a safe place for a young woman traveling on her own."

He hesitated for a moment, but then Waverly laid a hand on Millicent's arm.

"I won't demean your intellect by promising that I will keep you safe because we both know that would be the definition of a pie crust promise. I will, however, promise you that I will do all that I can."

"Thank you."

They sat together in companionable silence for while until it got a bit too cool to be comfortable. He rose first, then offered her a hand up.

"Alexander? I know money is limited but I think I might have an idea for us. But it would cost around five to ten centimes."

"What kind of an idea?"

"One that might make us better hidden should they come looking for us."

Reaching into his pocket, Waverly pulled out two five centime coins.

"Sounds like it would be worth trying, Millicent. Where do we need to go?"

"That store should have what I need. Just a minute."

It didn't take long before she came back out with a small sack and handed him back the change. At his glance toward the bag, she gave him a smile and held it up slightly.

"An old teacup, rosehips, cloves and paprika seeds."

"Sounds like it would make a very peculiar tea, Millicent."

"It won't be making anything we'll be eating or drinking, Alexander. Wait and see."


	8. Rogues and Redheads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines in italics are meant to be in French

As they began to look for a place to spend the night, Millicent took her scarf and very carefully tied it in place so that all of her hair was hidden beneath it. The pair found a room for rent not far from the telegraph office and Millicent asked for and got a small pot to boil water in.

_"Thank you so much, madame. You may smell cloves later. Our dear mother always made us take clove tea to ward off a cold, especially when traveling."_

_"Ah - my mother did the same. Our mothers were wise. Doctors think they know so much, but who nursed the families before they came along? The mothers of the world."_

_"So true. Thank you again for your kindness, madame. Sleep well."_

Once they had made their way to the room and the door was shut, Millicent just smiled and removed her scarf before she began to heat the water. While the water was heating, she sliced up some of the rosehips, broke up the cloves slightly and bruised the paprika seeds, adding all of them to the teacup as Waverly watched the proceedings from a nearby chair. Once the water was boiling, she carefully added the water to the cup and allowed the contents to steep. He could see then why she had made mention of it to their temporary landlady - the smell of cloves did carry strongly.

Millicent occasionally stirred the contents, but did nothing else until the cup had cooled to room temperature. Then she carefully used a spoon to pull out the clove pieces and the seeds before pressing the remaining pieces of rosehip against the side of the cup. Once she seemed satisfied, she carefully spooned out the rest of the solids as best as she could. The remains of those solids were tossed into the fire.

Taking the pitcher out of the bowl that served as the room's wash basin, Millicent went behind a screen and came back wearing the pink outfit that she had been wearing when he first saw her along with a pair of leather gloves. She took down her hair and dampened it, then began to add some of the liquid from the cup to her hair a little at a time, combing it through until the cup was emptied, then continued to comb in through a bit longer before rinsing her hair out. Then she combed it near the fire until her hair was thoroughly dried. It might not have made a huge difference to the hair of most women, but her pale blonde took on the reddish tone of the liquid. She had also very carefully rubbed a small amount over her eyebrows using the finger of her glove.

Standing up once she had finished, she did a slow turn for him. Her hair was what he'd often heard called a strawberry blonde, reddish with golden tones. The gloves and the pink outfit were stained, but he doubted she'd have ever cared to wear them again regardless.

 _"_ I have to admit that it does make a considerable change to your appearance, Millicent. Am I to assume you have similar intentions for my hair?"

Looking at his light brown hair tone, she nodded.

"The change won't be nearly as much on you and not so huge that people will wonder, but out in the sunlight, the red will show and with both of us having reddish hair, people will start making the assumption that we are related for us. We will need to continue treating our hair, though. Far from permanent."

"But for now, if they come looking for a twelve year old blond child, they hopefully will not see her in the apparently fourteen year old strawberry blonde, eh? Something you also learned from your mother, I presume?"

"You presume correctly. The dancer in her, I suppose. She enjoyed altering her hair with her moods. I believe that had she been able, she would have done the same with her eye color."

By the time another batch had been made and his own hair treated and dried, they were both quite ready for sleep. Millicent made sure that they both wrapped their pillows with some of the darker of their clothing so that none of the dye would rub off on the pillowcases. No good to dye their hair, after all, if they left behind a woman that might complain long and loud about the pair that left reddish stains on her linens.

In the morning, Millicent restyled her hair a bit to fit more in with the fashions she had seen on the women around the area while Waverly got used to the difference in his own appearance in a looking glass. When they went downstairs at the invitation of their landlady for breakfast, they were already packed and ready to be on their way. The woman hadn't seen Alexander in a strong light before and hadn't seen Millicent's hair at all, so the changes brought no comment from her.

They were heading out to collect their bicycles when there was a bit of commotion from the telegraph office. A glance over had Millicent turning her head back away quickly, though she was carefully not to hurry any of her other movements. The reaction had not been lost on Waverly and he reached out a hand to her arm, her slight trembling apparent to his touch if not to his eye.

_"I believe the time has come to continue our trip, sister dear."_

The blue eyes flashed him a look of gratitude and she took a deep breath to steady herself.

_"Right as always, brother dear."_

The man that she had recognized from the Foreign Office gave a brief glance their direction, but paid no attention at all to the pair of cyclists as they pedaled off in the morning light.


	9. Foxes Going to Ground

Waverly's intention had been to make this day an easier one on Millicent. Falaise was only twenty miles away and pressing a girl of twelve too hard didn't make sense under their current circumstances. Besides, although she was still not complaining, the long bicycle ride to Caen had to have her muscles sore.

She didn't ask about his reasoning, but the lessening of tension in her shoulders and the occasional smile showed that the slower pace was appreciated. Unfortunately, Waverly was about to discover the truth about the old saying regarding best laid plans.

This time, he saw them before she did and he was suddenly very glad that he had asked Millicent about why she was agreeing to follow his lead, because now would not have been the time to doubt that she would do exactly as he needed her to do. With no pause or hesitation that might have drawn notice, he smoothly shifted direction as if that had been his intent the entire time, heading them back out of Falaise and toward Argentan.

Waverly waited until they had left Falaise at least two miles behind them before he pulled over for them both to take a rest. Her eyes were troubled and seemed to take a slight greyish cast. The totally irrelevant thought passed through his mind that the mother who would have loved to have been able to change her eyes had birthed a child who could.

 _"_ You spotted someone in Falaise, didn't you?"

"Yes, Millicent, I'm afraid that I did. There are definitely a group on the lookout for us."

She gave shuddered which he reacted to by drawing her close and simply holding her until it passed. He knew she had composed herself when he heard her speak again.

"What do we do now, Alexander?"

"Well, let's think this out, shall we? I would have to presume that they haven't figured out yet how we are getting from place to place or they would have been watching the roads far more carefully. Now - if you were them rather than us, where would you suppose the foxes you were chasing to be heading?"

Millicent sat and thought it all over for several minutes before looking back up.

"I should say that we should be looking toward Paris. Plenty of places for the foxes to go to ground there and plenty of people to hide among."

"I would have to agree. And the place they will be least likely to expect the foxes?"

She didn't even have to think about that answer.

"Avignon. After all, if the foxes had wanted to go there, they merely had to have taken the next scheduled train."

They consulted the map and Millicent sighed at first, then studied the map closer.

"If we get south of Paris, do you still think they will be looking for us by the trains?"

"Possibly not. But we might have trouble with enough money for tickets by that point, my dear. We will need to make use of our bicycles to go on the smaller roads. Both to cut down on distances and to lessen the chance of running into the ones we want to avoid. I think we should aim for Orleans."

"Orleans it is then."

Offering her a hand back up, Waverly met the eyes of his young companion.

"Millicent, we have a very, very long way to go. Are you up for it?"

"I've never done anything like this before, so I don't know if I can. I do know that I will continue for as long as I am able. After that?"

She gave a small shrug with her shoulders before moving back to her bicycle.

"I don't see a great deal of use about worrying about the after until it happens. A great number of things can happen between now and then, some of them beyond our control."

Chuckling, Waverly moved to retrieve his own bicycle.

"You have a wisdom beyond your years."

"Do I, Alexander? My mother always referred to that as a sign that I was becoming jaded too young."

"I wouldn't use that term to describe you at all. Shall we be on our way?"

They had traveled until mid-afternoon when they were hailed by a middle-aged man driving a team of two horses behind a wagon. The boy that normally helped him with his deliveries was ill and since the young man on the bicycle looked in fine health, would he be willing to take on a job for three days? It would entail helping to drive the horses and unloading the back after they reached Clermont-Ferrard.

A few minutes of haggling later and the pair of bicycles were stowed among the other items in the wagon. The man assisted Millicent up, introducing himself as Lucien Doucet. A spare wide brimmed hat was found for Waverly as he took the reins. Well, one place he very much doubted their pursuers would be looking for them on was a horse-drawn delivery wagon.


	10. Clermont-Ferrard

The trek by merchant wagon wasn't very fast, but it was steady and legs other than their own were doing the work. Plus part of the pay for Waverly's aid included meals for them both - mostly consisting of hard bread rolls and soft cheese, but neither of them minded that. Waverly had driven a few teams when he was in his teens and soon remembered the nuances of it. This sort of activity was totally new to Millicent, but as she wasn't expected to drive, it didn't matter a bit. Especially since it turned out the Monsieur Doucet was more wanting for company than for actual manpower. He was a very social creature and had hated the thought of making the long drive all by himself with no-one to talk with. And talk he did.

Monsieur Doucet spoke of Cerise, the daughter he had back at home who was Mademoiselle Cheval's age - which he placed at fourteen, much to Millicent's delight. He asked them a few questions about their own family and they were both careful to listen to anything the other gave as an answer to avoid contradicting one another, but they really didn't have to worry about that too much. Monsieur Doucet did most of the talking and proved to be an entertaining storyteller. Stories about his family, his goods and the country they were passing through made them feel that they had known him for quite some time. By the time they made camp that first evening, he was already asking them to call him Uncle Lucien.

Beyond the surprisingly pleasant company that was helping make the time pass, they had another reason to appreciate the deal that had been made on the second day when rains began to fall. The showers only lasted a couple of hours, but that amount of time would have gotten them thoroughly soaked had they been on their bikes. The protective covering that was put up to protect the driver's area didn't keep all of the water off, but it did keep off the majority.

They were fortunate to find a dry area to park the wagon that evening and 'Uncle Lucien' even brought his guitar out from the back of the wagon. Waverly didn't think much of his own voice, but the other two seemed to like the way he carried a tune well enough so they passed a pleasant evening singing several old French folk songs.

They arrived at their destination by mid-morning on the third day. By the time the wagon was unloaded, money passed over and goodbyes said, it was early afternoon. Now that they were alone again for the first time in three days, Millicent brushed herself off and gave Waverly a smile.

"Uncle Lucien was wonderful company, but I do believe I've learned more than I ever desired to about camping out by sleeping under a wagon, Alexandre."

He chuckled at that, picking a bit of grass from his own coat.

"We both could do with a good dusting off, I think. Shall we consider remaining here for a day or press on?"

Millicent took a good look at herself, then Waverly.

"Much as pausing a day sounds heavenly, do you think allowing the hounds extra time would be the best idea?"

"Probably not. Well, if nothing else, the wagon camping extended our funds and the work added a bit to them. We can check out the cost of tickets between here and Avignon, if you like."

"We still over a hundred and fifty miles to go, don't we? If we can manage the train, that would be nice."

"I have to agree. Seems to be a bit of a crowd there. Why don't you wait in the shade and keep an eye on our cycles while I see what we can manage?"

Arrangements took longer to arrange that he cared for, but Waverly was rather pleased with the results. They would have a bit over three hours before their train left and that should give them enough time to clean up a bit.

When he returned to where he'd left Millicent, he saw the cycles, but not her. The didn't worry him at first. He had been gone longer than expected and there was a good chance she simply couldn't wait longer to find a powder room.

Getting closer to where she had been though told another story. There were signs of a struggle. Three hours. Waverly had just three hours to find who had taken her, where they had gone and find a way to liberate her. A daunting challenge even if he knew this city, which he most certainly did not.


	11. Mob Scenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lines in italics are meant to be in French

Two things Waverly knew for certain. One, he had to keep a clear head. Two, he needed help and there was only one man that he knew in this city. If he was still here.

Waverly took their bicycles to the train station and had them tagged as luggage, then immediately went to the last place he had seen Lucien Doucet. When he saw the familiar wagon, he picked up his pace looking around for the man, finally spotting him haggling with one of the other merchants.

_"Uncle Lucien!"_

The man's head turned immediately and apparently he could read that something was wrong by Waverly's approach. He waved him over.

_"Evard - this is one of my nephews. Alexandre'? What is wrong? Where is Millicente?"_

All of the agents that they had seen looking for them so far had been British, so Waverly took the chance and made a guess.

_"I was at the station buying our tickets – Millicente was waiting for me in the shade because of the crowds. Some English men forced her to go with them while I was too far away to stop them."_

The man Lucien had been speaking with became agitated at once, speaking about a group of rude (even for Englishmen) who had come into the area and had already been complained about for laying their hands on young French girls, claiming to look for a runaway. Lucien became incensed to the point that Waverly was wondering if the man had forgotten that they actually weren't related to him.

_"My niece is no runaway, Evrard. Where can we find these men? They must be shown that they cannot accost the young ladies of our country."_

The raised voices had drawn both the attention and then the indignation of other surrounding merchants and Waverly suddenly realized that the equivalent of an anti-British mob was forming. Despite his normal pride in his country, at this moment, he was quite content to be considered a Frenchman. Especially when the local gendarmerie joined in. Waverly watched in amazement as he witnessed just how quickly a group with a shared grievance could be spurred into action even if the trigger had nothing to do with them personally.

In the rooms that the British agents had rented, they had their hands full with Millicent who had decided that her best option was to cling to the identity of Millicente Cheval, aged fourteen and fully ignorant of the English language. The sudden banging at their door startled all of them even before the gendarmerie began shouting for them to open the door.

If it had not all been so serious, Millicent would have found the entire play of events after the door opened to be hilarious. The last person she expected to see at the side of the gendarmerie was Monsieur Doucet, but she didn't hesitate to call out to him from where one of the agents was trying to hold her back.

_"Uncle Lucien! Thank goodness you have found me! These men have been hurting me!"_

That was all the gendarmerie needed to hear. Under loud protest, the British men were arrested and drug off while being pelted with things likely best unknown at the hands of the gathered French populace. The same people cheered Millicent's release to her 'family' before they disbursed back to their usual routines. Once he could speak to them privately, Lucien gave them both a long studying look.

_"I do not know or care why you are on the run, but I would side with the two of you any day over the likes of them. Someday, contact me again and let me know how you have fared, little Millicente. Take care of her, Alexandre'."_

Waverly's hand was protectively around her waist.

_"I will certainly do my best, Uncle Lucien."_

Lucien gave Millicent a kiss before giving Alexander a pat on the shoulder and heading back to his haggling.  Alexander gave Millicent a reassuring hug once they were alone again.

"You reacted brilliantly, Millicent."

"I was terrified out of my wits, Alexander. I do think the only thing that helped is that not all of them were completely convinced that they had the right girl. Apparently, they grabbed another blondish girl just yesterday to ill effect."

"Clumsy on their parts, but it made it easier to get you away from them. If they try to trace us again, hopefully I'll have them off the scent. I managed to buy us tickets through to the Nimes station, but we'll get off at Avignon. Do you want to risk one last telegram before we take the train?"

"Yes. My best hope of the three, but I hesitated to contact him because of his position in the government."

"One of ours or another country?"

"A member of the House of Lords, though his wife has ties to Germany."

"Come then. Let's get that one sent off and go catch our train."


	12. His Majesty's Discretion

The train ride to Avignon was pleasantly uneventful, but getting off at the station brought on an unexpected surprise. The Lord that she'd sent the telegram off to was there and waiting. Which meant, of course, that he had already been in Avignon before she had sent word.

Despite the change of hair and clothing, he had no problem spotting her and came straight over. Millicent saw no point in pretending otherwise and greeted him as warmly as he did her as Waverly kept a polite, but wary eye over the reunion.

"Snezhinka, I've been worried about you. Has your escort treated you well?"

"It is good to see you again, Uncle William. And yes. He couldn't have taken better care of me if he'd been my own brother."

The man offered his hand to Waverly then, still apparently taking the measure of the young man.

"Alexander Waverly, isn't it? I believe I had the occasion to work once with your father, Jonathan."

"Yes, Your Lordship. He had mentioned that he had that honor to me."

"Very good, very good. Well, Millicent, my child? I found out about the rather underhanded way you'd been treated when I went to inquire about your well-being after the funeral. I've never held with all this nonsense, as you well know. I went straight to the palace and got a few things – and people - straightened out."

He paused then and reached out to take her hands.

"You know where your mother had intended for you to go?"

"Yes, Uncle. To a Swiss boarding school until my eighteenth birthday. After that point, she said I would be old enough to make my own mistakes as I jolly well pleased."

He chuckled at that.

"That does indeed sound exactly like something your dear mother would have said. Are you still willing to follow that path? There are good schools in England as well you could attend."

"Mother wanted me to finish my education on the continent. I have no disagreement with following the path she chose for me."

"Excellent. I will finish the arrangements. Mister Waverly, you've seen Miss Kildare along this far and, more importantly, have her trust. Would you be willing to escort her the remainder of the way to Switzerland?"

"If that is in line with her wishes, Your Lordship, I would be most pleased to escort her there."

"It is very much in line with my wishes."

"Very good. All settled then. I'll arrange for rooms for the next few days until we receive confirmation from the school and then we'll get you on your way. Between now and then, we'll need to see to your wardrobe and other necessities for starting your studies, my dear."

It was while they were in Avignon that word reached them of the tragic fate of the ship that they had spent several hours on. It seemed unbelievable that a vessel of the magnitude of the Titanic had been taken down by an iceberg. The enormity of the loss was staggering when they remembered all of the sights that they'd seen as they'd toured the ship and heard the numbers of those that had been lost at sea.

In another touch of serendipity, their last day in Avignon ended up being April 21st - Alexander's twentieth birthday. As Millicent had said they would were they able, they celebrated it together by having their final dinner in France together.

"It seems odd thinking that this time tomorrow, I will be at the place where I will be spending the next six years of my life."

"Second thoughts, Millicent?"

"No, not really, Alexander. I think I will welcome having a bit of stability for awhile. I don't know about six years worth of it, but I will try and make good use of my time. As Mother said, I shall have plenty of time once I pass the age of eighteen to do other things. Will you write to me?"

"If you write to me, I promise I will answer each and every letter that you send me."

"In that case, you may open your present."

The box Millicent pulled up and laid on the table wasn't very large, but it was beautifully wrapped. Picking it up, he didn't immediately open it.

"While very thoughtful of you, I -"

"Please just open it, Alexander. I will have to admit up front that I asked Uncle William to get it for me."

He hesitated just another minute, then began undoing the wrappings. Under the paper was a wooden case and inside the case was a handsome burl wood pipe.

"You may never use it but I thought it was rather ornamental. You're the sort of man that will have his own desk one day and when that day comes, I think it would look quite nice there."

He chuckled at her enthusiasm as he pulled the pipe from the case to take a better look at it.

"You wouldn't find it odd for a man that didn't smoke a pipe to have one on his desk?"

"Not a bit. I've known some men that have library shelves full of books they've never read or intend to read. Seems a bit silly, but I've been assured that it is quite usual."

"It's quite a handsome thing. Thank you, Millicent."

"You are quite welcome. Happy birthday, Alexander."

The next day seemed to pass in a blur. The train trip was only a little over five hours followed by an hour trip by coach to take them from the station to the grounds of the school. The surroundings of the school were very scenic and the school itself well-established. A chaperone stayed with the pair as they allowed Waverly to take a tour through the classroom as well as the personal room that would be Millicent's until her graduation. When it was nearing the time for him to be taken back to the station, the pair were allotted some privacy in the gardens.

"It may be silly, but I feel like I've known you so much longer than I have, Alexander."

"Shared experiences will do that. I feel much the same."

"I do know it is a quite a way in the future to make arrangements, but I hope you will come when I graduate."

"Six years isn't really all that long, Millicent. Hang on a minute."

He reached into a pocket and withdrew a silk pouch. As she watched with undisguised curiosity, he opened the bag and took out the dragonfly broach.

"How lovely."

"It was my mother's. One of the few things I have left of hers."

As he was speaking, he carefully reached over and pinned it to the left side of her blouse.

"Hold onto it for luck, Millicent. I'll come back for it when you graduate in 1918."

"Alexander - are you sure?"

"If I were not sure, I would not be loaning it to you."

"I don't know what to say."

"You needn't say anything. Just keep that promise to write to me."

"I will."

He smiled down at Millicent, took hold of her hand and kissed her forehead in a chaste manner before pulling away and heading for the coach. She stood at the gate and waved as he and the coach receded into the distance.

Eyes still on the road, Millicent's fingers traced along the dragonfly broach as she whispered softly to herself.

"I shan't be twelve forever, Alexander."


End file.
